


Perseverance: Inquisitor Lavellan's Verdict

by sirconnie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirconnie/pseuds/sirconnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen's got withdrawal troubles. Cassandra thinks he can pull through. Inquisitor Lavellan really wishes she didn't have to deal with this. Hawke doesn't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Dragon Age fic! And it's super short! No romance here, just an alternate version AKA what I think should've been an option during Cullen's personal quest. **Let it be known that I personally think Cullen is not a good person and an unbearably badly written character who got retconned until every ounce of potential he had in Origins and DA2 disappeared in a haze of white fangirls and biased developers.** I'd rather he wasn't in the game, but since he is, here's the way my Lavellan would've handled that whole lyrium situation. Don't worry, this isn't a Cullen-bashing fic. It's just more realistic. There's some Cassandra critical stuff here, too.
> 
> Also, both my Lavellan and Hawke are mages and they're both Black. Very Black. Dark-skinned. That is all. OH, by the way, **this is 10000% absolutely NOT a Hawke/Cullen fic**. Just making that clear.

Callie trudges across Skyhold’s courtyard, fairly annoyed that she’s had to walk here all the way from Cullen’s office. It’d been bad enough to climb all those stairs only to have a scout tell her he’d gone to meet with Cassandra. Normally this would be an easy enough trek, if not for the mission she’d only just returned from and the diplomatic small-talk she’d had to make with their illustrious Orlesian guests, leaving her both physically and mentally exhausted. If she didn’t have to confirm several troop formations with him, she wouldn’t have bothered. But, as it is, her muscles are sore, her brain is fried, and she’s looking for Cullen.

He's not near Cassandra's training dummies, which is disappointing. She changes direction and makes her way to the nearby smith, hoping desperately to find them there because she _really_ can’t be bothered to go back to Cullen’s office. She reaches for the door handle before freezing when she hears familiar voices coming from inside.

“You asked for my opinion and I’ve given it.” Cassandra. Good, Cullen ought to be with her. If not, she'll at least know where he is. “Why would you expect it to change?”

“I expect you to keep your word.” Cullen’s here! She’ll be spared from going who-knows-where to find him, thank Mythal. “It’s relentless, I can’t--”

Can’t? Can’t what? Callie leans in close, pressing her ear to the door to listen - he sounds agitated, more so than usual. Are they fighting? Since when do Cassandra and Cullen fight? This might be interesting.

“You give yourself too little credit,” Cassandra says. Callie would really like to know what they’re talking about. Better listen some more.

“If I’m unable to fulfill what vows I’ve kept, then nothing good has come of this!” Cullen sounds really on edge, troublingly so. Maybe they _are_ fighting. In a place with a lot of weapons. Perhaps she should interfere before they hurt any bystanders. “Would you rather save face than admit that--”

“Break it up, you two,” Callie calls out as she enters. They both whip their heads toward her, startled. She grins at the poor spooked humans in an attempt to calm them. “Everything alright in here?”

Neither of them answer for a moment, giving her time to assess the situation - no weapons, no blood. Cassandra looks fine, mildly disgruntled as per usual, nothing odd there. Cullen, however, looks like he’s going to fall over any minute. Callie’d never considered the possibility that the man could get _more_ pale, but he’s somehow managed it.

His drawn face gets even more worn as he turns away from her and starts to walk - more like hobble - out of the room. She hears him mutter, “Forgive me,” as he passes her. The exhaustion is clear in his voice and she watches him go, if only to make sure he doesn’t lose his footing on the way out.

“And people say _I’m_ stubborn. This is ridiculous,” Cassandra bites out as he leaves. Callie turns to her, eyebrow raised in a silent question. “Cullen told you he’s no longer taking lyrium?”

“Sure. He also told me that _you_ were to keep an eye on him,” Callie replies, accusation not lost in her tone. She really doesn’t like the way he’d seemed unable to stand up straight, and she’d already noticed him losing concentration in  war table meetings more than once. She’d made sure to do research on Templars and their dependence on lyrium after Cullen confessed that he’d decided to stop taking it. What little writing she could find was not promising.

Cassandra sighs. “I am, but he is not interested in my judgment today. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.”

“Really?” That’s good, at least he has enough of his mental faculties to know when he’s at the end of his rope. Callie’s not sure it’s smart to trust Cassandra to find a replacement commander, however, knowing her track record of recruiting people with zero experience. Maybe she should look into some candidates--

“I refused,” Cassandra says firmly, pulling Callie out of her thoughts.  

Callie shakes her head in disbelief. “You _what?_ Why?”

“It’s not necessary.” Cassandra gestures resolutely with her hand and gives her the same unshakable look she gives to dragons and nobles alike. Her face softens along with her voice as she says, “Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

Callie can’t believe this. She’d always understood Cassandra to be logical. Emotional, brash, headstrong, yes, but she also _thinks_. It seems that Callie was wrong in that assumption.

She tries not to show exactly how incredulous she is and speaks in an even voice, “Why didn’t he come to me?” She _is_ the leader of this organization, after all. He should’ve come to her first so they could avoid this nonsense.

“We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers.” Ah, yes, as a Seeker. The same way she’s supposed to be able to _evaluate_ when a Circle is abusing its charges. Right.

Callie is doing a great job at not voicing her criticisms. Josephine really is the worst kind of good influence.

“He’s told you he can’t go on, though,” she says. “Shouldn’t his word be enough?”

“It’s not that simple,” Cassandra says lowly, looking at the fire roaring in the hearth in front of them. “Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have…” She keeps talking, but Callie doesn’t really pay attention. She’s trying to focus on something other than her immediate emotion, which is a deep, unbridled irritation. She centers herself and keeps her mind on the matter at hand: the Inquisition’s commander has been compromised. How is she going to tackle this? Cassandra finishes her speech and Callie forces herself to keep from jumping down her throat.

“Let me see if I understand this,” Callie starts, crossing her arms over her chest. “You decided to hold off on getting a replacement without consulting me. Is that right?”

Cassandra frowns. “Yes. I believe he can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall.”

“Believe?” Callie almost laughs. “You risked the future of the Inquisition because you _believed?_ ” Cassandra says nothing, only glares at her while Callie reevaluates.

“Alright,” Callie eventually says, moving to leave. “I’m going to go talk to him. This matter is now entirely out of your hands.” She doesn’t miss Cassandra’s confused scowl as she turns on her heel.

“What are you going to do?” Cassandra asks, raising her voice to be heard as Callie walks away.

Callie half-turns to glance at her and answers plainly, “My job.”

 

* * *

 

“Callie!” She turns to see Hawke jogging to her, grin stretching her wide face. She stops to let her catch up.

“I got word about another pack of Venatori,” Hawke says, brown eyes gleaming in excitement. “I was just about to tell your people in the...are you alright?”

“Huh?” Callie blinks while Hawke tilts her head at her.

“You look angry. Something wrong?” Callie smiles wryly - of course Hawke would see right through her. The woman’s more perceptive than she lets people believe.

“I guess you could say I’m dealing with a crisis. Still haven’t figured out how, though,” Callie admits. Might as well come clean, she’s never been very good at lying.

“Something I can help you with?”

“Probably, but you might not want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to--wait.” Her smile turns into a grimace in record time. “Does this have something to do with _him?_ ” Callie nods. Hawke groans. “Maker’s breath, what’s he done _now?_ ”

“It’s not so much something he’s _done_ ,” Callie says with a sigh. “It’s more like...something he’s not going to do? I don’t know. It’s difficult.”

“You’re right, I really _don’t_ want to help,” Hawke grumbles. “But I will.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Because you seem upset and It’d bother me if I didn’t do anything.” She shrugs. “Besides, maybe I’ll get to hit him again. The very possibility makes this worth it.”

They make it to Cullen’s office when Hawke grabs Callie’s arm and yanks her backwards just before she crosses the threshold. Something hits the door right where Callie would have been standing if not for Hawke’s reflexes. She nods her thanks and enters the office in time to hear Cullen’s frantic apologies.

She listens to him, hears everything he needs to say while he rants and raves in a near stupor. She hears Hawke quietly scoff from behind her when he mentions Kirkwall, but Cullen doesn’t seem to notice.

“I will _not_ give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry,” he rages, pacing back and forth and possibly talking more to himself than to her. “I should be taking it!” He punches his bookshelf fiercely, causing some of its contents to fall to the floor. Callie watches his back as he breathes slowly, looking at him with clinical eyes - his movements are jerky, his breathing is weak, and he’s visibly in pain. From what she’d read, this is only the start of a long road to recovery. He’s sick and volatile and nowhere near capable of commanding any army.

“So dramatic, you Templars,” Hawke pipes up. Cullen tenses at her voice - he may have only just noticed she’s here. She walks until she’s standing next to Callie, thick, muscled arms crossed and face stormy. “Did you think this was going to be easy? You quit lyrium and everything turns out fine?”

“I knew the risks,” he rasps, voice tired but sharp.

“And now that it's difficult, you want to give up?” Hawke scoffs again, looking bitterly amused and much different from the gentle mage Callie knows. “I knew you were pathetic, pup, but this is beyond my expectations.”

Cullen rounds on her, eyes wild and furious. “You have no idea what I--”

“Don’t I?” Hawke snaps. “Do you really think Templars are the only ones who can’t go without lyrium? Who get sick when they don’t get enough?”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s _exactly_ the same, except with _us_ , the lyrium is in our damned blood.” Hawke steps forward, using their several inches difference to her advantage and towering over him. “If we don’t have any to drink, we have to get it from inside of us, and it is _not_ infinite. Mages have _died_ because of people like _you_ forcing them to hide and to go without. Mages like my father.”

Callie watches Cullen’s expression relax marginally, though he still has his hackles up. Hawke doesn’t back off either, just glares down at him with an uncharacteristic snarl twisting her face.

“I’ve been sick from lyrium withdrawal. My sister has, too,” Hawke goes on, voice jagged and low. “I know _exactly_ what you’re feeling. Except I didn’t whine nearly as much.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Callie cuts in before Cullen can reply, separating them with her own considerable bulk. She turns to him and says, “You told me you could handle this.”

He visibly slumps, eyes pointed downward and expression wretched. “I know.”

“Is that not the case anymore?” He doesn’t answer, only clenches and unclenches his fists. Callie purses her lips and turns to Hawke, not sure what to do next. Hawke stops glowering at Cullen and meets her gaze. After a moment, she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, fine,” she says, exasperated. “I’ll help the pup out. Shouldn’t be too horrible.”

“What?” Callie and Cullen say in unison, both incredulous.

"Well, now I don't want to."

"How would you help him?" Callie asks. Hawke thinks for a moment before answering.

"With a lot of work. And a _lot_ of pain." She sizes Cullen up with more than a little reluctance. "I won't lie, he may not survive. He's very small."

Callie turns to him. "You think you can handle it?"

"I doubt it," Hawke answers before he can, grinning sharply as she lean back against the desk behind her. "Although, if he does, you should know that I can't do anything about that personality of his. He'll most likely still be a bigot."

"Why?" Cullen finally speaks up, his voice croaky and faint. "Why would you, of all people, bother helping me?" Hawke eyes him coldly, arms and legs crossed and every part of her looking tight and closed off.

“I should’ve killed you in Kirkwall,” she says plainly. “After what you put me through, what you put the people in the Gallows through, I should’ve done away with you like I did so many other Templars. The _only_ reason I didn’t is because of your last-minute convenient change of heart, and I didn't restrain myself that day just so you could die from something as simple as this."

“And anyway,” Hawke continues with a scowl. “We all know I’m not the type to abandon the pitiful. It’d bother me.”

Cullen just looks at her, bloodshot eyes wondering while Hawke stares daggers back at him. Well, this turned out better than Callie was expecting. Still, there is one more thing left to deal with.

“You can’t run the Inquisition’s troops while you’re in recovery,” she says to Cullen and he stands just a bit straighter in response. “I’m going to have to get a new commander.”

He frowns deeply, but nods. “I understand, Inquisitor. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves a dismissive hand at him. “Just focus on not dying.”

“Right.” Hawke fixes him with a sharp grin, her dark eyes ablaze. “The only thing that gets to kill you is a mage. It’ll most likely be me, but you could always get lucky.” Cullen only grimaces, apparently not willing to argue with the woman who’s going to help him not die. Or the woman who kills him, whichever happens first.

He turns to Callie again, “I can tell Cassandra what you decided. She won’t be happy, but I’ll--”

“Oh, I can handle that,” Callie says easily as she makes her way out of the office. “I’m planning to have a talk with her anyway."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so apparently there's going to be 2 chapters. Didn't expect that. Also, it's not really clear how Malcolm Hawke canonically died (just that he was sick), but in my headcanon, he died from lyrium withdrawal.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wrapping it up now. I'm not too happy with this, but it's meant to be short and a small taste of a series I'll be doing about random moments in the rule of Inquisitor Callie Lavellan. She's great, trust me.
> 
>  
> 
> **Bit of Cassandra critical stuff here. You've been warned.**

“She needs _what?_ ”

“‘Remnants of exposures to the rifts and the Fade’,” Josephine says, reading the missive aloud. “She says she wants to…’peer through the Veil’?”

Callie snorts. “Of course she does. When I told her what I saw, she got so excited she accidentally threw her hammer halfway across the room. Almost knocked poor Harritt out cold.” Josephine laughs the way she always does when she's amused despite her disapproval. “I was talking to her just yesterday, why didn’t she just ask me?”

“Apparently, she wanted it to be an _official_ request,” Leliana says, leaning close to Josephine to read the missive over her shoulder. “In fact, it’s ‘an official request made officially’. How formal.”

“Well, then her official request has been officially approved.” Callie’s already excited thinking about the fun she and Dagna are going to have experimenting with the bits of the Fade. She’s itching to get a taste of the Beyond again and if the two of them put their heads together, they should be able to figure something out. That is, unless they blow themselves up first, but that’s unlikely.

“Understood,” Leliana says with a nod. “She'll have what she needs. I expect it would be difficult to keep it from her.”

“And you would be right. So, what’s next on the docket?” Callie asks. Josephine begins to answer when one of the war room’s giant doors blows open with a crash, allowing Cassandra to march into the room, face contorted with rage.

“ _You_.” she growls, ignoring Josephine’s alarm and Leliana’s raised eyebrow. Callie looks at her from her position at the other side of the table and sighs.

“Could you two give us a moment?” She smiles apologetically at them as they comply, exiting the room with a few backwards glances at the very angry Seeker standing rigidly across from her.

“Well, I’m glad you made your way here,” Callie says idly. “Saved me the trouble of coming to you.”

“I told you a replacement wasn’t necessary,” Cassandra snaps, getting right to the point. “I gave you my judgment.”

“Yes, you did. I disagreed.”

“You--”

“Disagreed,” Callie repeats firmly, already annoyed by Cassandra’s theatrics. “I went over your head and took the decision out of your hands. This works out better in the long run.”

“What about Cullen?” she demands, voice tight as she takes a hard step closer to the table. “How could you tell him to step down, knowing what’s he’s going through?”

“I told him to step down _because_ of what he’s going through,” Callie bites out, glowering back at her just as angrily. “Don’t you get it? He’s in _pain_ , he needs to recuperate, to get better--”

“Because you’re _so_ concerned about his wellbeing.”

“Alright, maybe I’m not. At least not as much as you are.” Callie shrugs. “I care about the strength of this Inquisition, about closing the giant hole in the sky and killing Corypheus. We can’t do those things if our general is incapacitated.”

“He would have managed.”

“Why? Because you _believe_ he would've?” Callie says in the same mocking way she did before, making Cassandra clench her fists in response. Probably a good idea to adjust her tone.

“Here’s the thing, Cassandra,” she says calmly. “Right now, in this war, your belief means nothing. You can use it to make yourself feel better and to make your own decisions but you do _not_ \--” she brings a hand down onto the table, not hard enough to slam it, but enough to emphasize her point-- “use it to make a call that could affect our mission. You need to keep your Maker and your Andraste out of this war if you want to win. That’s all I’m asking.”

“How _dare_ you,” Cassandra hisses, her whole frame shaking in rage. Callie really hopes she doesn’t get violent, it’d be bad for morale if she has to electrocute the late Divine’s right hand. “Are you insinuating that my faith is keeping me from thinking clearly? That my religion is making me incompetent?”

“I’m not. Or, well, I don’t mean to.”

“Speak plainly, then. Because from what I’m hearing, it sounds like you don't trust me.”

“I _don’t_ trust you. I never did.” Callie notices Cassandra go stiff at that. “Oh, you can’t be _that_ surprised. Almost every interaction we had at the beginning involved you drawing a sword on me.”

“That was different. I have long since gotten past my initial suspicion of you,” Cassandra says in a voice that actually sounds sincere. “I even made you the leader of the Inquisition, for Andraste’s sake.”

“Yes, you did. Without asking me and with little to no knowledge of my background,” Callie says with a laugh. “But, I suppose that’s not new for you. You gave Cullen a position of power even if the last time he was in charge of anything close to an army, he had a city burn down around him. Do you see why I’m putting your decision-making skills in question?” Cassandra’s jaw tightens and she looks down, looking rigid and enraged, but saying nothing, which is nice.

“Look,” Callie goes on, voice gentler this time. “I know you care about him. And I know your faith is important to you, but you can’t let it get in the way of the bigger picture. I’m trying to win a war right now, and I can’t do that with an indisposed commander. You understand.”

Cassandra lets out a sigh and all at once her posture relaxes. “Yes. I suppose I let my personal feelings cloud my judgment.”

Oh, thank the Creators, Callie was getting _really_ worried Cassandra would throttle her and she’d have to ruin the nicely organized war table. Josephine puts a lot of effort into arranging those little figurines, Callie would hate to have them caught in the crossfire.

“Have you already found a replacement?”

“Yes--well, no, but he’s the best I can get in such short notice. I’ll probably just keep him as an interim commander until I can think of someone else, but--” She’s cut off by a quiet knock on the door just before it creaks open.

“Inquisitor?” Warden Alistair calls out before hesitantly stepping into the room. “Sorry for interrupting. You sent for me?”

“Yes, I did.” Callie grins. “You’re the Inquisition’s new commander. Congratulations!”

Alistair’s eyes widen comically and he practically chokes out a, “ _What?_ ” while Cassandra whips her head back to Callie with her own incredulous look.

“It’s just until I can find someone more permanent. I needed someone in a pinch and you were the most suitable candidate I could think of,” Callie says easily. “Don’t worry, you’ll do great. You fought with the Hero of Ferelden! That has to count for something, right?”

Alistair only lets out a weak noise, his eyes still round. Cassandra crosses her arms and gives Callie a questioning look.

“Are you certain this is wise?” she asks, jerking her chin at Alistair’s frozen form at the other end of the room.

Callie shrugs. “Not like I have anyone better. Unless _you_ would like to sit in an office all day and deal with troop formations?”

Cassandra shakes her head and lets out the closes thing to a laugh she’s done since she’d entered the room. “No, thank you. Alistair can handle all that, I’m sure.”

At the mention of his name, Alistair comes to life briefly just to groan and say in a quiet voice, “Oh, Maker, she’s gonna kill me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warden Aeducan will definitely not be pleased, but that's for him to deal with later. Thanks for reading!


End file.
